


love lost among waters

by shuanime



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Crown Prince!Seungcheol, Lost Love, M/M, Memory Loss, Merman!Jeonghan, Minor Violence, Servant!Jisoo, Sirens, but disney princesses do that a lot so it shouldnt be a problem, jisoo dies for like 5 minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuanime/pseuds/shuanime
Summary: the forbidden love between the crown prince and his servant lover ends when jisoo was thrown to the sea to die.a lonely merman honors his death by reviving him, erasing all his memory on land.sometimes, a siren's kiss is a gift.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 31
Kudos: 155





	1. land.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minishedswords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minishedswords/gifts).



> HELLO HI HELLO MY DEAREST PIX
> 
> first of all, im SO SORRY this took so long to write. idk i just wanted it to be perfect and u know how real life stuff goes on... life happened to me all at once. thank you so much for being patient with me :)
> 
> extra words because u had to wait extra long! :) hehehe i hope i gave your prompt justice ♡ enjoyyyy
> 
> oh and!! if there are typos and stuff, yell at me in the comments fjdjkfklds i donut have a beta reader ehehehehe

Thick, heavy curtains the color of blood are draped over the ceiling-high windows in the aureate ballroom. The pillars are ivory-white with intricate golden accents glimmering along with the soft warmth of the lights emanating from the vast chandelier above. White, gold, blood red—the colors of the royal family.

At the far corner of the expansive room, next to the throne where the King and his new wife are seated, is a stage where an ensemble is playing a mellifluous song that a lady in an emerald green dress and a feather hat claims to love. A gentleman walks towards her with an outstretched hand, asking for a dance, and she is quick to accept. They both make their way to the middle of the room where the rest of the guests partner up to spin and whirl and frolic.

Jisoo’s eyes subtly scan the room for the person he wants to see most. He did not get the chance to see him earlier when he was being honored in front of everyone because Jisoo was back in the kitchen gathering trays he could serve.

Just one glance. No more than one look.

Jisoo is at the farthest back—the buffet where food prepared and approved only by the head chef of the Royal Household is being served. Gentlemen come for a drink or two while the ladies try to stay away—that is what he has observed. But the dessert bar is truly heaven on earth, Jisoo thinks as he is someone with a sweet tooth, and perhaps that is why the ladies flock there in intervals, wholly conscious of how many times they should be seen near food.

“Will you hand me a napkin?”

Jisoo nods once, courteous yet swift enough so he does not misappropriate anyone’s attention. He does as the lady asks, earning an offhand _thank you_ that prompts him to bow to show respect.

For the rest of the night, he does as anyone asks, and he does it well.

“You,” the majordomo mumbles from next to him so that only he can listen. “Bring this empty tray back to the kitchen. I shall remind the others not to let any empty dishes linger.”

He nods like he is expected to, takes the tray, and leaves the room. As far as any of the guests are concerned, he was never there.

The way to the back kitchen is through a door that only essential personnel can access, passing through a long hallway of more rooms and paintings on the walls. Every second Jisoo spends in the main palace, he holds himself together with much discipline. The place is stuffed with opulence and grandeur he even never thought was possible. Jisoo floats whenever he walks on the cold marble flooring, the click of his shoes echoing slightly around the atrium.

Some point as he walks the length of the hallway, a strong hand shoots out of nowhere, hooking around his waist and pulling him into one of the rooms. He jumps at the clang of the tray as it hits the floor, heart attempting to leap off his chest, but everything makes sense once his lover’s zealous eyes greet him.

“Here you are. Gorgeous as ever.”

“S-Seungcheol…” Jisoo tries to ignore the deep, sonorous whisper in his ear, reason coming up to the surface for air. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the ball?”

“I can’t help it. It’s been a week since our last night together. I missed you.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling Jisoo against him. The prince does not seem like he had too much to drink, but the way he inhales as he noses Jisoo’s neck almost gives the impression that he is intoxicated.

Jisoo cannot help noting that he looks unquestionably dapper in his maroon velvet frock coat with white cuff gold buttons and gold-fringed epaulettes on each shoulder. A white leather baldric is slung across his body, completing the attire. He looks like a king already. Jisoo feels small in his plain white dress shirt and black knickerbockers—the garb all servants like him wear in the main palace.

Jisoo moves to press a quick kiss on his lips, mumbling a small _congratulations_. He could not be more proud that his lover is going to be crowned as the new king in a few moons, and he shows just that by granting him another peck, hands smoothing on the prince’s chest.

“I have been dreading this ball.”

“Have the time of your life, Cheol. It’s the announcement of your coronation.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. He presses his forehead against Jisoo’s, holding him firmly by the waist, swinging him to the melody of the music from outside that is softened by the colossal oak doors.

Jisoo senses his perturbation. Perhaps the ball is truly dreadful for him.

“What’s bothering you?”

“There are so many princesses tonight,” Seungcheol sighs. “They’re all waiting for me to ask them for a dance.”

Jisoo chuckles. “Of course. Who would not want to be swept off their feet by the stunning Choi Seungcheol?”

“That’s right,” Seungcheol laughs with him less because of reality and more because Jisoo’s blinding smile knocks the air right out of him. “But none of them are you.”

Jisoo’s hands itch to push Seungcheol’s chest away, heart beating quick in his own, but they linger firmly there instead as the prince pepper kisses all over his face, each kiss tickling his skin. “Cheol, what if someone comes in—”

“Don’t you miss me?”

“I do. So, so much, but—”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Seungcheol moves a stray hair off Jisoo’s wary eyes. “No one’s coming in. You’re all mine.”

Seungcheol leans in, and as his face inches close, Jisoo tilts his head to welcome the kiss. The prince’s hot lips scorch his own. His tongue tastes like the fruity tartness of wine and something that is so familiar to him, something that makes Jisoo’s knees wobble that his arms have to cling around the prince’s neck for dear life.

Limp and pliant in Seungcheol’s arms, Jisoo opens his mouth more to the kiss, letting the prince take and take and _take_. He cannot hear the sounds that are being released from the back of his throat because all he can hear are his thoughts of _more, I want more. I don’t want this to end._

Seungcheol lifts him, setting him down on the massive table in the middle of the room. This is the room where the royal family holds meetings with the Council. Jisoo recalls because he serves them beverages, and he remembers the liquor stands for good news and tea, bad. And now he is on the edge of the table with Seungcheol, mouth passionate all over him. The unease in his gut dissipates as soon as he forgets the rest of the world.

The prince kicks a chair out of the way to slot himself between Jisoo’s legs. It scrapes against the marble floor loudly, but the two are unmoved. All of their senses are focused only on each other, the way they pant out each other’s names, the way Seungcheol caresses his sides, the way he feels goosebumps rise on his arms despite having a layer of clothing to isolate the touch.

A knock gives them both a fright, startling them into separating like scalded cats. Their arms unwrap and Jisoo feels the emptiness when the lips on him are no more. He looks at Seungcheol in fear—a silent _what do we do now?_ But Seungcheol appears to be as lost as him with the wide-eyed, aghast look on his face.

“Your Highness?” The person behind the door calls out. It’s Seungcheol’s royal guard, Hansol. “I heard a noise. Are you in here? The King is looking for you.”

_Hide_. Seungcheol mouths when the knocking persists.

Jisoo scrambles to hide under the table, clutching the top buttons of his shirt that the prince had undone in the heat of the moment. Seungcheol straightens himself, taking one look at the mirror across the room, and when he supposes he is _proper_ enough, he opens the door.

Worry etches on Hansol’s face as he stands before the prince.

“Is everything all right?”

Seungcheol waves him off. “I’m fine. I was just taking a break from the crowd.”

He still looks doubtful, sticking his head in and looking around the room. Seungcheol feels sweat beads along his hairline. Before Hansol detects anything unusual, he clears his throat, “Shall we go?”

The young royal guard’s attention snapping back to him. “Huh? Oh. Right, Your Highness. Let’s go.”

The door clicks shut when they both go back to the ballroom. Jisoo waits a few seconds more, cramped under the table, in case someone comes back in. He cannot be too careful, after all. When he is sure that no one is outside, he, too, makes his way out of the room.

And for the rest of the night, he spends his time taking on jobs in the kitchen, committed to not setting foot into the ballroom. He hears the news from the kitchen staff as they chat and include him in their lovely conversations.

The King had just announced that he is stepping down and that the crown prince is going to be King.

Soon as he finds a wife, a princess befitting the prince’s status.

Jisoo finds himself nodding and smiling at all of the good news.

* * *

The stables, among all others, are the least agreeable piece of work in Jisoo’s book. Something about being around horses—animals who are bigger than himself—unsettles him.

In defiance of his fear of them, the horses show affection for him as much as they are capable. Surprisingly, Jisoo had no problems with feeding and helping groom them. When he was first sent to help primp the horses for the princes, he worried greatly that they would kick or thrash around when he is near, afraid should the creatures of strong, vast beauty convey hostility towards people they do not spend time with on the daily. It was a shock to both him and the hostlers in charge of the horses to see them be on their best behavior whenever he was around.

_These thoroughbreds might have sensed you’re no threat_ , the hostler he was assisting told him once as Jisoo ran a hand through the horse’s mane, the horse snorting at the touch but otherwise biddable. _Maybe you’re a natural._

Jisoo _knows_ he is not a natural. Laborious—that is what this is. He is a hard worker, but there are a tremendous amount of heavy-lifting literal horse limbs that would break his bones.

He sees them as friends. He would help comb their pretty hair once in a while, talk to them about his day, but no, he would _not_ clasp their heavy gaskin in between his legs just to pick at the mixture of matted hay and manure and other debris stuck on their hooves.

Sometimes he asks himself why he still takes on this job when he can easily swap with someone in the kitchen or someone in the gardens. He could if he wanted to, that is. Except doing that would mean he has to throw away a chance to spend more time with _him_ out in the open, with no one suspecting them.

“Good day, Your Highness,” the hostler greets from outside the barn, causing Jisoo to turn his gaze fleetingly in their direction. He does not make sudden movements, keeping his head hung low to avoid any suspicion, anything that would alert anyone about the ache in him to at least be close to the one he loves most.

No one knows about him and Seungcheol. And Jisoo plans to keep it this way in fear of the prince having to face the repercussions of being romantically involved with a peasant’s son. Jisoo does not know what those repercussions may be, but he will never let Seungcheol endure anything for him.

Jisoo has no idea how Seungcheol does it—love a dirt poor boy like him. But he loves that Seungcheol loves him, anyway, loves that his feelings are reciprocated, loves that he may have nothing but at least he has him.

_For now_ , a voice in the air whispers. He pays it no mind.

“Is Cherry ready to go?” It is Hansol who speaks. Jisoo feels a pair of eyes trained on him, but he resumes brushing the mare’s chestnut coat as if his heart is not trying to leap out of its place in his chest.

The hostler claps his hands, cheerily leading them to where Jisoo is. His voice becoming louder as they come near. “Cherry is right here, Your Majesty. She’s well-prepared. Hooves are cleaned, horseshoes replaced. War saddle, just like you requested, and—Oh! The boy does the finest job at making her coat shine.”

Cherry whinnies upon seeing her master, and with that, Jisoo halts and offers the prince a small bow, eyes flicking everywhere except on his face. He pretends he does not feel it—the weight of his stare.

“You can take her right now, Your Highness. Jisoo, you can go—”

“ _Actually_ ,” Seungcheol speaks firmly with his eyes still glued on him, voice magnetic to Jisoo’s ears. “You and Hansol can go. The boy can stay here and help me with Cherry.”

The hostler looks particularly confused at the order. No more than Jisoo himself. “Ah, but he’s no good yet at tending—”

Seungcheol turns to the hostler with a mannerly gaze. “It’s all right. She looks calm with him. I want to know the person who takes care of my mare.”

The hostler still present as uncertain, mumbling something about Jisoo not being the main person who takes care of the mare, but the prince insists, “Hansol, will you take the mister outside and give us some space? I’d like to start questioning the boy now.”

Hansol takes one blank look at Jisoo and proceeds to quietly obey that very minute, leading a puzzled hostler with him outside the barn.

As soon as the barn doors shut, Seungcheol tackles him in a squeeze that makes him drop the brush in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says, voice muffled by Jisoo’s temple from where his lips are touching. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_ —”

“Cheol.” Jisoo rubs his back soothingly. They are so close to each other he could feel Seungcheol’s heartbeat against his chest. “What are you apologizing for?”

Seungcheol pulls away just enough so he could look at Jisoo’s face, but he keeps his arms around him, keeping him close.

“The King announced to the whole kingdom that I am to find a wife,” he explains, eyes wide-set and incredulous. “You must have heard already. I won’t let it happen.”

_Oh_. That.

He may have been preoccupied with the eagerness to see and _feel_ his lover again, but he did not forget about this aspect of their relationship. It was always there, in the back of his mind before he sleeps and after he wakes up.

He just chose to not believe them, is all. Not until Seungcheol tells him himself. And now it is exactly the way he wanted. Except Jisoo’s heart secretly wished the news were never true.

He cannot form any words as a response to this. Not right now, at least.

Hands sliding to hold Jisoo’s arms, Seungcheol continues, “You know that, right? I’ll tell him we’re together. We’ll have a grand wedding, and you could be my…”

He trails off. Maybe he is finally hearing himself, Jisoo presumes.

“Your what, Seungcheol?” Jisoo’s voice is patient, but it does not make his words any less real. “Your _queen?_ You know that can’t be. There hasn’t been anything like this, and besides, even if it can happen… I don’t want that responsibility. What do _I_ know about being a monarch?”

“We can try.” Seungcheol has this hopeful look swimming in his eyes, drawing Jisoo into them. “You don’t have to have a title if that’s not what you want. I’ll marry you and still be King. There have been plenty of kings in history with no wives.”

There is _no_ _such_ _thing_ as a Thariun king without a wife, Jisoo internally debates. It is in their history that all great kings had renowned princesses as their wives. Wealthy, beautiful princesses became queens of their kingdom, and even Seungcheol’s father, the King, had two. The first one being the crown prince’s mother who died from a disease, and the second being the wife he married—a princess of his son’s age. It created an uproar among the people of Thariun because the King is too old to have such a young bride, but eventually, people accepted it. After all, great kings may only have great queens.

There is no room for Jisoo in this equation. He is not a bride, not a princess, not a noble at the very least. He was orphaned by peasants who died in a fire, parents he neither knew nor met. He was raised by a widowed peasant, and while he is eternally grateful for his Mama, it is not enough for him to stand by Seungcheol’s side when the crown is finally placed on his head.

Seungcheol had worked so hard to get to where he is right now. Jisoo knows of his struggles, his perseverance, and his prowess in battle, in leadership, in service. No one deserves to be King more than the man he loves, and Jisoo would rather be gone than be the reason why Seungcheol cannot have what he deserves.

“A Thariun king with no queen? People will _talk_ , Cheol. That’s unheard of—”

“But we can _try_ ,” he says, finality in his voice. It seems like he has made up his mind. “It doesn’t matter if people talk. I can take whatever they have to say because they don’t know a thing. I just have to know if you’re willing to try with me.”

Almost immediately, he nods. “Of course,” Jisoo says, noticing his teeth digging in his lower lip. Seungcheol hand cups at his cheek, thumb swiping at his lip. “Of course, I am.”

“I want to be with you Jisoo. Whatever it takes.”

Jisoo flashes him a smile, one that feels like a string forcefully pulled taut for it to make sense. Hope blooms in his chest, but there is something ominous in his gut that he cannot quite name.

But does that matter now?

Seungcheol will try, and he will try with him. And that is all that _should_ matter.

“And I want to be with you,” he mumbles, cheek pressed onto Seungcheol’s warm palm, eyes forbearing. “We’ll talk later. Go take Cherry for a ride. The hostler might suspect something if we stay here for too long.”

As if the horse understands, Cherry snorts, prompting Seungcheol to run a hand on his muzzle. There is a feeling in Jisoo that he cannot shake at the moment, but perhaps later he can find the words to describe it.

“Same place tonight?”

He nods, hands fisting the linen fabric on Seungcheol’s chest as the prince holds his cheeks in both his hands and leans in for a kiss that is soft and chaste, enough to quell the growing tension inside of him.

The kiss ends and it takes with it the calm he just started feeling.

“Same place tonight,” Jisoo mutters under his breath.

* * *

There is something about the sounds of ocean waves that helps the crown prince think. Hansol took note of this when he was still in training and would see the prince ride his favorite mare along the beach.

As they ride their respective horses at peace along the seashore, the prince on Cherry and Hansol on Cocoa, a regal black stallion, Hansol takes note of more mannerisms.

A hand carding through his hair when he is nervous, making him remind the prince that Hansol just worked on perfecting that hair, he should not be touching it.

A grimace when even the slightest decision is made without him.

A deep sigh as he looks up, jaw set and rigid when he feels helpless. That, coupled with his pointer finger tapping on his thigh.

“If I…”

The prince starts, but it is likely that he is just thinking aloud. Hansol cannot tell sometimes whether or not he is engaging in a conversation. It is better to wait for him to address him directly.

He seems to be in distress, hair flying to the wind’s direction as he chews on his bottom lip.

“We _are_ friends, right?” The prince continues, startling his royal guard with the question.

“I am loyal to you, Your Highness.”

He answers with the truth. Maybe it is too early to call them friends, but his loyalty does not dwindle. Hansol has been serving as his royal guard for only a year now, right after he lost the chance to be the youngest general. They said he was too naïve, too wide-eyed, too inexperienced to be knighted, and Hansol almost believed them if not for the prince publicly announcing that he will only entrust his life and safety to him. At first, he was confused, but Hansol knew better than to question the prince’s judgment.

It is a peculiar sight—a crown prince with a royal guard younger than he is. People have pointed at him, whispering about how he is allowed to wield a sword to protect someone who must be better at him in war and action.

But the prince is a good person. And he assures Hansol that he chose him for his natural aptitude that people have yet to see.

“Seungcheol. Call me Seungcheol,” the prince says. “We’re friends now. I can come to you for problems. In return, you can come to me for yours.”

Hansol cannot suppress the small chuckle that escapes him. “Sir, I don’t think you should be trusting me with your personal life. I’m just your requisite helper.”

“I have had friendships without loyalty, Sol,” Seungcheol beams at him, eyes fond and welcoming like an older brother he never had. “It won’t hurt to have one _with_ one. Besides, you’re family now.”

“All right, _Seungcheol_.” A smile creeps up Hansol’s face as he musters the courage to ask. “Is this about your lover?”

“Huh?”

“Your lover. The boy back at the stables?”

Cherry whinnies as if she is backing his claim. Hansol laughs at the look on the prince’s face.

“Did I step out of line, Your Highness? Was I mistaken?”

“No, no. How—How did you know?”

“I had to piece it together, but,” Hansol looks at him to make sure he is not imposing, but he appears to be looking forward to his observation. “Well, I heard some moaning and saw an out of place tray on the conference room floor at the last ball when I was searching for you, which, of course, matters that aren’t really telling of anything…”

“But?” His brows furrow, and Hansol reflects if this is even a good idea. But the prince urges him, “What made it obvious?”

“Let’s just say I had a thought that if he wasn’t your lover, then you must be the kind who goes around kissing servants in stables as thanks for combing Cherry.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You saw all that, huh?”

Hansol shrugs. “Should I pretend not to know?”

“You’re bound to figure out soon, anyway,” the prince says as he puts Cherry to a halt. Hansol does the same with his horse. This way, they are immobile in front of the ocean waves that are coming at them until they melt back into the waters as they hit the sand. “But you’re right. His name is Jisoo, and I would move heaven and earth for him.”

A fond look crosses the prince’s eyes, and Hansol feels in his words the deep, sterling affection Seungcheol has for Jisoo.

“He’s happy for me. That’s how he is—always proud of me. He is nothing but encouraging,” the prince continues. “Beautiful inside and out.”

“He sounds like a lovely person,” Hansol comments. “You must be so in love.”

“I am.” Seungcheol tears his gaze away from the waves, searching for assurance from his friend. “If I ask him to marry me, do you think he would say yes?”

_Marry?_

The prince is expected to find a wife.

Hansol knows better than to question the prince and the prince’s feelings. If Jisoo is as amazing as Seungcheol says he is, maybe he is worth it. And maybe the prince knows that and that is why he is making this decision.

“I think,” Hansol says after a while. The prince awaits his response, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for affirmation. “If he loves you the way you love him, he would not think twice to marry you…

“…Your Highness,” he adds when the missing title of respect weighs heavily in his mouth.

With that, the prince grins from ear to ear, clicking his tongue as he trots on the horse. Hansol follows behind. Sometimes the prince rides fast, Cherry galloping wide distances, and it can be hard to keep up.

“Remember that it’s Seungcheol from now on. Not _Your Highness_ ,” the prince—Seungcheol calls out as he prepares to transition from cantering to galloping, racing to bolt his exceptional mare against Hansol’s stallion. “Race you back to the palace!”

Wind shooting straight to his face as he steers his horse, Hansol remembers exactly why he is loyal to this person.

The prince makes him feel like he belongs. He wishes nothing but happiness for him.

Still, he _is_ determined to beat him in this race.

* * *

Sometimes the King, along with his wife, leaves Thariun to visit other domains in hopes of strengthening and maintaining ties with foreign nations, ensuring that even with the development of the King of Thariun stepping down and his son claiming the throne, these sovereign states will sustain the current state of their support and comradeship.

And when there is an opportunity like that, Seungcheol makes sure he spends all of his leisure time with his beloved.

Jisoo lies in his bed, unclothed, naked like the day he was born. His eyes are blinking slowly, lashes fanning on the tops of his flushed cheeks as he looks at Seungcheol through them.

Seungcheol etches this view as a burning mark in his mind.

Jisoo hums, gently shifting beneath him. Seungcheol moves to nose his cheek as his member slips out of Jisoo.

“Beautiful,” he whispers against his face. “A real seductress.”

Jisoo giggles. “An ugly troll, you mean.”

“None of that.” Seungcheol flecks plenty of kisses on his neck, burying himself in his scent. “This right here,” he mumbles, mouthing the delectable patch of skin. “The trademark of a true siren.”

“I’m not _seducing_ you,” Jisoo whines in protest, a small sigh escaping his lips as Seungcheol sucks a sensitive spot near his ear lobe.

Seungcheol licks at the mark he just made, satisfied at how it is a striking purple next to red ones he made earlier, ones that are littered all over Jisoo’s ravishing body.

“And yet you manage to do just that. All the time.”

He rolls off him, flopping by his side and wasting no time in scooping him up in an embrace. Jisoo loves resting his head on his chest after a long night of loving. He says he likes listening to Seungcheol’s heartbeat; it makes him feel safe. And Seungcheol is not about to take that away from him.

They curl up, limbs tangled all over each other. Jisoo’s head rests on his arm as another wraps around him almost protectively.

For a long moment, they stay like that with Seungcheol’s hand carding through Jisoo’s soft, auburn hair and Jisoo tracing loops and circles on the skin of Seungcheol’s chest. It feels surreal as if the reason why he is even allowed to have these—Jisoo and his heart—is unfathomable to the prince.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jisoo mutters, eyes closed as he laps up the soothing touch. “What did I say about thinking?”

_No thinking. Not on the bed where you sleep,_ Jisoo would say when Seungcheol would seem visibly pushed to the limit by his duties. This is Jisoo’s way of taking care of him especially on nights they spend apart. _Give yourself some time to breathe, Cheol._

His heart swells at the reminder. Jisoo can get quite endearing even when he nags.

“I’m not allowed to think where I sleep,” Seungcheol recalls aloud, and he revels in the smile that graces Jisoo’s face as he says the words.

“That’s right.” Jisoo opens his eyes to give him a reassuring look. “I’m pretty powerless, but if telling me can take away a small part of the burden, don’t hesitate to come to me.”

“Very well,” Seungcheol says, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. Jisoo always smells faintly of hyacinths. It is as if he spends his moments rolling around a flower bed full of them. “I’d like to resume where we left off earlier at the stables.”

Jisoo has this glint in his eyes as soon as Seungcheol mentions it, and it is not like the playful, elevated gleam that the prince is accustomed to.

He seems as though he has already come to terms with a decision—one they have not made together.

“You don’t have to do anything, Cheol,” he says ever so softly, and it makes fear crawl in Seungcheol. “You’re going to be Thariun’s Crown. That’s all that matters.”

With a stubborn scowl that might make him seem like a rascal instead of a level-headed rule, Seungcheol objects, “I’ll be damned if I become king without you.”

“That’s just how it is. There’s nothing we can do about it,” Jisoo sighs defeatedly. The way he is taking this calmly alarms Seungcheol.

“Are you giving up on me?” Seungcheol blurts out without thinking.

Jisoo jolts, sitting up to look at him intently. A pained expression crosses his face, but it is gone before the prince could make sense of it.

“I’m not allowed to want anything in my life,” Jisoo says with barely a breath, looking anguished. This is the first time Seungcheol has seen him like this. Jisoo is always calm, always lovely. He is the epitome of patience. Seeing him like this makes Seungcheol feel as though he has failed the gods that created Jisoo. “And yet here I am with you. Please, do not doubt my feelings.”

“Then why?” The prince implores, rising himself, blankets pooling at their waist. “Why does it seem like you’re letting me go without a fight?”

“There is _no_ fight. You’re going to be the king—you can’t do this, Seungcheol. You can’t just throw away your life’s work for me—”

“I’m not throwing away anything!” Seungcheol takes his hand in his. It trembles in his hold. “I can take the throne and still be with you, Jisoo.”

Jisoo attempts to withdraw his hand, but the prince clasps them firmly in his, eyes searing and resolute.

“And how do you plan to do that? You can’t just take everything you want. You know that as much as I do—”

_“Marry me.”_

“In this life, where we have to work hard for what we want— _what_ —” Jisoo sputters, eyes widening as the words sink in. “What are you—”

Seungcheol lets go of his hand for a moment to slip one underneath the pile of pillows they have been resting on. He takes out a red box, compactly made of velvet fabric and the finest wood so it lasts forever. Then, he pulls the lid open, and in it is a gold sapphire ring with a diamond halo.

The bluest sapphire Seungcheol has found. The color of the ocean that brings him peace and comfort to represent the person he loves most.

“Jisoo, I give you all of me forever,” Seungcheol breathes out, watching Jisoo’s face turn pink at the realization.

Every nerve in Seungcheol is on fire as he asks for his hand.

“Can I have all of you?”

Jisoo takes one long breath, and Seungcheol feels his heart plummet to the abyss of his gut. _What if he refuses?_

At a loss for words, Jisoo tackles him in a hug that has them both slumping on the bed.

“Yes,” he whispers against Seungcheol’s neck, puffs of air tickling him. The answer almost leaves him gasping for breath. “Yes, yes, Seungcheol. Yes!”

He pulls himself up so he is looking at the prince. Jisoo rolls off, lying flat on his back while giggling a light silly tune, and Seungcheol hovers over him, taking his left hand and placing the ring on his ring finger.

“W-Wait,” Jisoo says as he looks at the stone on the ring the color of the sea. “We haven’t said our vows yet. And don’t you need a big wedding? Your family will be furious!”

“Don’t overthink it, love. We will have a wedding. Right now.”

Jisoo hums, tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean _right now?_ ”

With a knowing smile, Seungcheol only brings Jisoo’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to where the ring is on his finger.

It fits perfectly.

*******

Red carpet, long train, sheer veil, white dress, gold embroidery—this is how Seungcheol remembers his late mother. He remembers the chatter of the guests, the men playing strings, the King at the altar, the rose petals on the floor. It was his first and last memory of her.

And it is nothing like this right here with the sea foaming at their feet, soaking the hems of their linen sleep tunics. Jisoo’s hair is tousled, reflecting the earnest love that they made and shared in Seungcheol’s chambers just a little over an hour earlier. And at one point, the kisses got more heated, the ache in their cores engulfed their senses. The thrill of knowing it is not what history expects of him makes the love they share profound as if the stars shifted just to make way for the two of them to _be_.

As they say their vows with only Hansol and Cherry, the moon, and the sea bearing witness to their quiet ceremony by a shore no one knows, Seungcheol feels like he is ready to take on the world undefeated as long as Jisoo is by his side.

“This is my promise of love to you…”

Seungcheol pledges their bond. Jisoo smiles at him as he listens intently, and the prince realizes, at that moment, that there is no way he will ever want anyone as much as he wants him.

* * *

After marriage comes living with your better half for the rest of your life.

That has not quite started for the prince just yet.

In the meantime, while he has not told the King about his marriage, nothing changes. Jisoo still lives with his adoptive mother in the tiny cottage by the sea and Seungcheol still lives in the constant presence of the ocean near the palace. He had never noticed how hollow the palace truly is until he sworn love to Jisoo in front of the waters.

Now, his home is Jisoo, so when he is not anywhere near him, his home is the ocean.

And he knows Jisoo feels the same because he sees his husband waiting for him right where they vowed to be each other, feet submerged in the dancing waters. He is facing the vast horizon, eyes trained far, but his soul is floating over his body, thoughts lost in a trance. Seungcheol marvels at his beauty. He cannot get enough of Jisoo. Especially now that they are having a hard time meeting each other with Seungcheol’s preparation for his transition to sovereign power. Every little moment with him counts.

The prince sneaks up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He gets nothing but a shudder, but as soon as he realizes it is Seungcheol, Jisoo is leaning back to his embrace with a smile.

“I missed you.”

Jisoo sighs with a small smile. “Stay the night at the cottage,” he says, rubbing Seungcheol’s arms around him. “Mama would love to have you.”

“I would also love to, but you know how it is right now. I have to be active in service more than ever.”

“I understand,” Jisoo breathes out, no sign of indignation in his face or voice. “But take care of yourself. Take breaks, and don’t overwork.”

Humming in acknowledgment of Jisoo’s reminder, Seungcheol sways them to a tune in his head, and Jisoo seems to hear it, too. They stay like that until the prince remembers something he has been meaning to tell him.

“I’m telling the King soon,” he whispers against his cheek where he is pressing a kiss. Jisoo hums, closing his eyes as the wind blows his hair back. “It’s just busy in the palace. I can’t seem to find an opening since he’s always away. But I’m going to do it soon.”

“There’s no rush, Cheol.” Jisoo turns his head to look at him with a patient smile.

Seungcheol worries Jisoo is settling for this. He deserves more than this, so he tells him as much.

“I can’t wait to start a family with you, Jisoo. And I want everyone to know you’re my family and I’m yours,” he says, knowing Jisoo’s dream. “You don’t deserve to be a secret.”

The prince tightens his embrace, hooking his chin on Jisoo’s shoulder and looking at the waves incoming.

“You risk losing the thing you want most if you introduce your servant husband,” Jisoo says matter of factly.

“Jisoo, we’ve talked about this—"

“I know, I know,” he says, “I’m only reminding you that I can live like this. Without the family we’ve envisioned. What I _can’t_ live with is you having to give up your life for me.”

Seungcheol loosens his hold and turns his husband around to face him. _Husband_. He feels so much pride knowing Jisoo is his, and he is Jisoo’s.

“Everything is going to be fine.” He cups Jisoo’s sweet face, and it feels like he is holding his whole world in his palms. “I’ve been nothing but a perfect son. Father will understand.”

Jisoo stares in his eyes for a moment, the sound of the waves filling in the silence. And then he nods, closing his eyes as Seungcheol tips forward, lips finding his.

Whenever they do, it feels like the night they vowed to love each other over and over again. For better or for worse.

* * *

“A ball? Really, Father?”

He barges in the King’s chambers in the middle of the night with purpose. The King cannot be spoken to during the day because of what seems to be an excessively ornate schedule, so Seungcheol supposes it is justified to encroach to a great degree since this concerns him and Jisoo directly.

“You announced that there will be another ball in hopes of finding me a wife!?”

The King does not even sit up from the bed to acknowledge his presence, and it irks Seungcheol that he is being treated as an afterthought in his own future. He dismisses his wife upon hearing the issue. Out of respect, Seungcheol nods at her as she leaves the room.

“I’m an impatient man,” his father says, voice uneven due to his progressively worsening lungs. “It has been months since the declaration of your coronation. Thariun kings are expected to have great queens, after all.”

Seungcheol scoffs, brows furrowed as he clutches the invitation for the ball tightly in his hands. “ _You_ don’t.”

“Your mother was the best,” the King notes, unmoving in his bed. “She’s gone, but I still have a woman beside me whenever I am expected to have one.”

The way he talks about her makes Seungcheol’s blood boil.

“Mother would know that I can well rule a kingdom without a wife.”

“Are you saying a wife is useless? Your mother was one if you’ve forgotten.”

“No!” Seungcheol erupts, knowing this tactic of putting words into someone’s mouth. “I said no such thing.”

“Then,” the King lets out a cough. “Enlighten me.”

“I have no need for a wife.” Unknowingly, Seungcheol crumples the paper in his hand. “I’m married.”

The King falls silent, so he continues, “I have a husband. We’re in love.”

He awaits the King’s response to his careless confession, the tension in him growing stronger as he anticipates what could be the reaction of the man who holds so much power over him.

“I cannot say I’m surprised,” his Father says coolly after a while, startling Seungcheol with the fact. He must have sensed the confusion in the prince. “The walls have eyes and ears. A little bird flew around, carrying stories about the crown prince kissing a peasant, but I had to see it for myself.”

It is Seungcheol’s turn to be speechless.

“I guess I don’t have to anymore since you have just confessed yourself.”

Seungcheol throws the crumpled paper to the ground. The King eyes it as it lands on the floor.

“Cancel the ball.”

“On it is the King’s seal,” his father points out.

Right. There is no way to turn back from the invitation with the King’s empowerment.

“Your duty is to preside over anything for the monarchy, is it not?”

He opens his mouth to say more, to express how he feels, but something reminds him that he cannot do that without disrespecting the King further.

So, he holds his tongue.

“Only as Crown Prince,” he seethes. “But no more than that.”

“Socialize, son,” the Kings says with a provoking smile, and for the first time in his life, Seungcheol wants to land a jab on his father’s face. “Meet the ladies. See if you change your mind.”

With that, he knows it is over. He turns his back, jaw set and lips tight. He will not give his father the gratification, so he chooses not to show any more impertinence. He strides to the doors, leaving the King’s chambers. It does not matter to the King whether or not he will only take his husband and no one else because it seems like he is convinced Seungcheol can just look away and leave Jisoo behind.

Well, he is wrong, and Seungcheol takes full offense at him doubting his faithfulness to his husband. His mind will not change because his heart is incapable of beating for anyone else.

At this moment, he wants nothing more…

He just wants to see Jisoo.

* * *

Thick, heavy curtains the color of blood are draped over the ceiling-high windows in the aureate ballroom. The pillars are ivory-white with intricate golden accents glimmering along with the soft warmth of the lights emanating from the vast chandelier above. White, gold, blood red—the colors of the royal family.

At the far corner of the expansive room, next to the throne where Seungcheol will soon be seated, is a stage where an ensemble is playing a mellifluous song that a princess in a yellow dress loudly proclaims to love. There are no other gentlemen who could walk towards her with an outstretched hand and ask for a dance because only the crown prince is present.

In the middle of the room, the princesses spin and whirl and frolic to capture his attention. And the prince does as his father says. He mingles with the ladies but not to find a prospective wife. He does it to be a good host, to make a statement that Thariun has hospitable royals, and that is all he wants words to carry outside of the kingdom.

The princesses are still of value. They cannot be offended or repulsed by anything even if it means Seungcheol has to pretend to be entertained by their company.

They giggle at whatever Seungcheol says to them much like Jisoo would, but they just cannot encapsulate that sound that only Jisoo can make. That slight, muffled, infectious giggle that soothes Seungcheol’s nerves and makes him feel like the funniest man on earth.

Their dresses are adorned with, in all likelihood, lavish embellishments. And all Seungcheol could do is think about how Jisoo would look best in one. Maybe something pink as a shell to represent his innocent allure. White is also a color that looks perfect on Jisoo, making the silky tan of his skin inescapable to the eyes.

And, oh, how Jisoo would spend most of his time going through the cakes and the pies and the tarts at the dessert bar, dragging Seungcheol by the hand to come taste them with him. Seungcheol would indulge him, taking a bite out of everything he puts in front of his lips because it makes Jisoo happy when he sees the prince eat and Jisoo is as sweet as his tooth.

For the rest of the night, every little thing reminds him of Jisoo. Every little thing triggers something in his mind and his thoughts automatically go to his husband especially now that he is idle, nursing the glass of neat whiskey in his hands.

It is his fifth, and getting drunk on a formal occasion may not be the most responsible thing a prince could do, but it is the only thing keeping him from taking Cherry galloping to Jisoo’s cottage.

The only thing making him stay to fulfill his part.

“Aren’t you supposed to find a wife?”

A woman in a red form-fitting wrap dress comes into view, speaking to him as if they know each other, but Seungcheol has never seen this woman in his life. Seungcheol does not want to talk to anyone or to go through the bothersome process of turning to her and politely nodding, but he does so anyway because _manners make a man_ and all that.

“Well, I was supposed to…” he tries, but the question is too straightforward to answer. The woman just laughs, waving a hand.

She seems… carefree. Unlike the others.

“Don’t bother,” she says with a knowing smile. “It takes one to know one.”

_“One?”_

“You’re in love, aren’t you? With someone certainly not in this room.”

Seungcheol pauses, putting the glass down on the counter. “How…?”

“I am, too.”

That figures.

The woman laughs again, this time _at_ him. “Loosen up, Your Highness. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Seungcheol pries the situation out of her hand. “What should I call you?”

“ _Jisoo_ ,” the woman says, giving him her hand. But Seungcheol is frozen in place as he hears the name.

He takes the hand and presses a kiss on the back of it out of courtesy, eyes not leaving the woman’s face.

_Jisoo’s_ face.

Except it is not _his_ Jisoo.

His head is spinning. Maybe it is because of all the drinks he had.

“Do you want to dance?” Jisoo, the strange woman, asks. Seungcheol internally panics, sweat beading along his hairline. This is what he has been avoiding all night. He actively avoided asking all princesses for a dance because doing so would mean he has chosen a wife, and it was not hard to steer the conversations away from the music and the dancing, but when asked this frankly…

Seungcheol does not know how to reject her without seeming like a royal ass.

“Oh, come on,” Jisoo rolls her eyes at him. “I’m in love with someone. You’re in love with someone. Will one dance really hurt?”

Looking around, the room is filled with ladies who are waiting for him to ask one for a dance, ones who would be considered lucky to have caught the attention of the soon-to-be king.

If he takes this lady’s hand and leads her to the middle of the room, the others will think he has chosen.

“I know that look,” Jisoo says, pointing at his face. “I’ll be gone tomorrow. One dance. No commitment.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow in confusion. “Why should I trust that?”

“You really _are_ uptight,” Jisoo muses aloud, laughing a little. Seungcheol holds back from scoffing at her comment.

She looks around and then leans forward to whisper, “My lover and I are eloping tomorrow. Far south where the mountains are. We’re sick of the gruesome seas.”

_You’re wrong_ , Seungcheol means to say, but he restrains himself. “The seas are lovely.”

“Well, it only holds pain for us, so why hold onto it? Am I right?”

At the end of the day, life is different for people. One you treasure might be someone else’s agony.

“Right. I hope things go well with you and your beloved.”

“You too,” the woman clicks her tongue, extending a hand on the counter. “So? What do you say?”

He ought to give it some more thought, but the moment is the present, and there is no reason for him to turn her down. So, he takes her hand in his, and they make their way to the middle of the room for the waltz.

The dance is perfect—not too rigid, not too loose. Seungcheol holds her in his arms as they take the steps, careful not to step on her toes. To him, it is obvious that she knows her way through the dance. She seems more like a princess now than earlier when she was talking to him at the liquor bar. And she is beautiful, no doubt, but Seungcheol could not help thinking about his husband in her stead.

Jisoo would not know a thing about waltzing, would not take interest in it because it would get in the way of his daily agenda. Nevertheless, Seungcheol would insist they dance at night when they are under the bright stars dotting the vast, dark skies, feet immersed in the moving waters the way they were on the night of their marriage.

And his Jisoo would be graceful despite only learning about it for the first time. His Jisoo would be so much more beautiful. So much more regal.

Perhaps it was the whiskey in his system or the warm, candle-lit ballroom. It could be the jealous pairs of eyes trained at them as they dance around the room. It could be his thoughts lost in the musings of his husband.

Jisoo stops, and Seungcheol follows. She stands on her toes, nose touching the prince’s, as she brings her hands to his chest.

Then, she leans in for a kiss.

Eyes closed and head tilted to slot their lips together, Jisoo leans in for a kiss.

Seungcheol finds himself rooted to the spot. The princesses around them are applauding, celebrating this fine moment of the prince supposedly having chosen a wife.

He cannot muster the strength to do anything. An unfamiliar mouth is on his, and it is warm.

But it does not taste like Jisoo. It does not feel like Jisoo.

In a split second, after realizing what he had just done in front of a crowd, Seungcheol pulls away, stepping back a few with an apologetic glint in his eyes.

“I—I’m sorry,” he mumbles, wide-eyed and disoriented. Jisoo seems to have snapped out of the trances as well, curtsying as she mutters an apology.

But before the prince could hear it, he was already dashing to the doors. His heart is bursting with a vague feeling, thoughts swimming in his husband’s memory.

When he gets to the palace gates, he sees a familiar face that fills his heart with so much resentment.

“What a lovely evening, Your Highness,” Hansol greets with a smile that Seungcheol wants to rip off his face.

_This traitor._

Out of nowhere, he grabs him by the collar, agitation coursing through his veins as he remembers how the person he gave so many chances, so much trust, told everyone about his love before he could.

“You will stay away from me and my husband,” Seungcheol seethes, eyeing Hansol with death and pain and hurt swimming in his eyes. “I trusted you.”

He throws a stupefied Hansol to the ground, with all his strength. He takes one look at him, determined to say more, to make him realize how much he broke Seungcheol’s heart by not honoring their friendship. But any more time he spends here is time he spends without Jisoo.

He has to find Jisoo. He has to see his face. He has to hold him.

He has to apologize for the sin he just committed.

He finds Cherry, and before he knows it, they are cantering across the beach to get to Jisoo. As the cold air of the night blows at his face as he rides his mare, the image of Jisoo crosses his mind.

He is certain Jisoo would only smile, gentle and self-sacrificing. He would tell him _it’s fine, Cheol, you did not mean anything by it_ , even if the thought of Seungcheol kissing another breaks him.

Seungcheol imagines how Jisoo would feel, and he will never forgive himself for it.

So, he gives Cherry the cue to lengthen her stride, squeezing with his calves and heels. He needs to get to Jisoo as soon as he can.

He will make it right.

*******

The cottage is gone. It is not where it is supposed to be standing. There lies only a pile of dark ashes, some scorched bamboo poles standing, a remnant of the pillars of the once-humble home. The buzzing in Seungcheol’s ears drown out the sounds of wailing of Jisoo’s Mama, but when he regains his senses from the shock, he turns to look at her.

Her face is streaked with fresh tears with her small, cold body trembling as she screams incomprehensible words.

Seungcheol rushes to her side, hugging her tight in hopes of calming her down.

“What happened, Mama? Where’s Jisoo?”

His mother tears her gaze away from the pile of ruins that once provided her and her son warmth and safety to look at Seungcheol, pleading. She drops to her knees that are weakened by exhaustion and distress and a mixture of emotions Seungcheol could not possibly imagine.

“ _They took him,”_ she says. The cracks in her raspy voice and her swollen eyes make said unimaginable emotions swirl in Seungcheol, paralyzing him as the words sink in. “They took my son.”

* * *

The pain that engulfed his senses has grown into a faint numbness.

Jisoo cannot open his eyes. A cloth is haphazardly tied around them, and even if his hands are not bound and he can take it off, there is a sack over his head, so there is not much point in trying.

What could he have done to deserve this?

Jisoo tries to recall everything he had done in his life.

Was there a small action, a word, a breath?

Was there anything he could have _not_ done for this to not happen?

Jisoo should not have picked that flower when he was a child. The flower did nothing wrong. The flower was just beautiful. Oh, how Jisoo adored that flower. He filled an old rum bottle with water and kept that flower alive for as long as he could, as near to him as possible, until it withered just like all things do.

Jisoo should not have tasted the freshly-picked strawberries from the kitchen. He knew it was wrong to take something from the palace. It is as good as stealing, after all, and his job is to clean and assist and serve, not eat their food and take their belongings. He was hungry, so he took the fruit—one delicious bulb of berry. He took it and should not have, but he did.

Jisoo should not have looked at the prince like that. He should not have done whatever it is he did to make him fall in love—

No. Jisoo does not regret that.

Even if it ends like this for him every time he falls in love with Seungcheol, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

He cannot see his body, cannot feel an inch of his own skin. The soreness from his rope-bound hands is gone, too.

He remembers what happened, but he cannot feel the pain anymore. Moments ago he was screaming, he was begging someone to stop what they are doing to him, but now it feels like it never even happened.

He is tired. He wants to sleep.

_Seungcheol._

His face flashes beneath Jisoo’s eyelids.

He smiles like the golden sun. He takes up all of Jisoo’s attention, making it difficult to want anything else. Jisoo wants to be in his embrace, to feel his muscles relax next to him, to hear his heartbeat as he lays his head on his chest. They were going to build a family together. That is Jisoo’s dream.

He has held his breath in water before. It was fun doing it as a game. How long could he hold his breath? He counted. Thirty seconds. Seungcheol says he comes up for air often when they kiss, too, but Jisoo does not know how else to keep going if he does not breathe.

_Seungcheol._

He cannot see him. Not like this. His body is consumed, likely unrecognizable because Jisoo does not feel like himself after all the whipping and the lashing and the striking—

He counted every single lash of the whip. That was the only thing he could do to take his mind off the pain.

A hundred and fifty strikes.

A hundred and fifty strikes until he stopped counting.

A hundred and fifty strikes until he could not think anymore.

He gave up after a hundred and fifty strikes.

But Jisoo thinks he did good. He did his best.

_It’s okay. I can rest now._

There is no way for him to ask his lungs to stop. Whether it is air or saltwater, he will have to breathe.

When he felt the water against his skin as soon as he was thrown off by the men who captured him, he was shocked. He did not think the sea would be so… warm.

So forgiving.

In a few moments, Jisoo will be something else. Perhaps… seafoam? Just like the princess from the tale.

_Yes, please._

He does not fight it anymore. He takes a breath.

For some reason, it does not hurt.

He did not think the sea would be so warm. So forgiving.

And as his lungs fill with warm, forgiving, briny water, he finds himself not scared anymore.


	2. sea.

There is this word that Jeonghan always hears from the fishermen who anchor their vessels in the middle of his home.

He could not care less about their puny, mortal lives revolving around greed and insatiability. But it could get lonely in his vast, endless home. These _humans_ —they like to call themselves with that hideous word—are the only creatures he has seen that actually resemble him.

Or at least his upper half. Granted, the lower part of him looks more like a rainbow fish’s tail—a lustrous silver that shifts into all the colors in the spectrum when kissed by sunlight—but that detail just makes him better than humans.

They talk a lot about themselves, Jeonghan noticed. They love talking about what they had for supper, the act of strength they displayed in front of another human, the eyes of their children favoring theirs and not their wives, the biggest fish they caught…

The talking goes on and on and on. He has never met a starfish more self-absorbed than humans, and trust him, he has been in a number of conflicts with arrogant starfishes.

Despite being the vilest life form, humans use a certain word that Jeonghan has never heard before, and they use it _lovingly_. He cannot help overhearing their exchanges, and he is entitled to them, anyway. If they get to take whatever they want whenever they want from his home, then he can listen in to their pathetic conversations.

_I have to get back to my family, Chuck._

_Five mackerels! This should be enough for my family’s lunch._

_Don’t worry, son. We’re your family. We will always understand._

Family.

It sounds tasty. Maybe not as tasty as sea grapes, but definitely better than algae. Whatever that means, Jeonghan wants to find out.

He makes it a habit to listen to human heart-to-heart in secret. Somehow, the variety that comes in the form of human stories is more entertaining than an octopus’ tale of escaping a death trap (seriously, all octopuses he has come across manage to tell him the same rundown of the same escape story just in different settings) or a whale’s love story (Willie, the orca Jeonghan visits from time to time, tells him the saddest, most heartbreaking love story between two humpbacks that always follow the same current. They met once and never again. The first time Jeonghan listened to that story, he _almost_ cried.)

That is why his favorite place in the world is a patch of an island no one sees. There is a thin veil separating it from the human world, but it exists within it at the same time.

A patch of an island just enough for Jeonghan to bask under the sun without being seen and captured by predatory humans.

His home over the waters. That is what this is.

Jeonghan comes up, lifting himself with his arms and crawling his way to his favorite pillar rock. It is black and it shades him from the sun when he sprawls himself on a smooth, flat slab of stone that remains cool under him whatever the weather is. The perfect place meant for him.

_“I have had friendships without loyalty, Sol. It won’t hurt to have one with one. Besides, you’re family now.”_

_“All right, Seungcheol. Is this about your lover?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Your lover. The boy back at the stables?”_

He overhears. Ah, how Jeonghan adores moments like this—where he could steal bits and pieces of human stories without them knowing. This way, he can imagine what goes on, and no one can tell him he is wrong.

That word again, huh?

Family.

No, he thinks it may not be food seeing as a human just called another human using that word. It is quite confusing.

Perhaps family is another one? Another human that looks like a human. If that is so, then it will be exceptionally difficult for Jeonghan to have one.

There is no one else like him. Sometimes, Jeonghan finds himself with deep-seated envy for the creatures. Even the loneliest whale may have a few others that look exactly like it. they may not see each other often, but they are sure to exist. Jeonghan never knew any other merfolk or if they even exist. He knows himself and has known his life since he started remembering, but other than that… nothing.

He has no memory of anything else.

He likes to think he is special like that—extraordinary and unique unlike all life forms, chiefly superior to humans. And, admittedly, while it is impressive to be the only siren in the world, there is a part of him that cannot help feeling lonely.

Especially when everyone around him seems to have a family.

_Family_.

Jeonghan has figured it out. It sounds better that way than when it was compared with food.

* * *

If there is anything that the humans do that irks Jeonghan most, trying to capture and burn him to death would be the most foolish of its kind.

He can endure the whipping and the hooks in his skin. He knows how to escape nets, any trap they throw over him. Certainly, he will get some bruises, some open wounds, a graze on his skin and tail if he is lucky. The blame is on him, anyway, for going too near the surface. He knowingly chooses the consequences of being sighted by humans over the boredom of never getting to see the sun.

Even so, getting burned is truly a different venture. Burn injuries do not heal quickly with some resting in the water, unlike his other wounds. When he gets burned, he has to cry.

And if there is anything he hates in the world more than getting burned, it is the troublesome act of crying.

He has seen humans cry before. They shed waters—which is quite a surprise to him the first time he witnessed it. Humans, when they feel, cry water. They, literally, cry his home. And after all that crying (that is longer than when Jeonghan does it), they look relieved.

For Jeonghan, crying means feeling until he transcends _feeling_. It means absorbing all the pain until it reaches his core, until the burn wound is felt in his heart, until only pain gains control of his senses.

It is such a pain to cry. He would rather sleep with the sunfishes and wake up fault-free the next day. But burns will not allow him, will not at all mend overnight even underwater. He might have until the end of time with life, but fire can take it from him if he lets it. He has to be careful, he knows.

_But what is living if you don’t let yourself get burned from time to time?_ A stubborn voice in his head asks.

A pearl, instead of water, comes out of his eyes, and he has to swallow it for the burn to heal. Nature gave him his own medicine perhaps as a way of looking after him since he is immortal and he is alone. Jeonghan has a lot of free time, and in those free moments, he lets himself make sense of his existence. Thus far, he has been lucky enough to not have his tail burnt to a crisp, or else he will definitely perish.

Deep inside, he is aware that there is at best something wrong about dying only by fire. He knows this, being the only one of his kind.

By any possible means, Jeonghan will not allow himself to die for nothing when he is already living for nothing.

As he sits on his slab of rock, the cold night air blowing gently on the burn on his arm that he is nursing, he lets himself feel the pain. He lets the burn sear the layers of his skin to his thews to every single nerve until it reaches the deepest abyss in him.

He lets himself be buried in the scorching ache of the burn wound that shows him the insides of his arm, of having to fear for his life, of receiving many more inflicted torture by humans in the future in exchange for being able to see land.

And when all that pain is finally beyond endurance…

Only until then, he closes his eyes tight as a small pearl as little as a single teardrop beads out of the corner of his left eye.

He catches it with his hands that are trembling in pain. Immediately, with all the strength he has left, he swallows the pearl and watches its magic.

Upon swallowing it, the affliction regenerates in front of his eyes, skin weaving together like entwined hands until the surface is smooth as it always was. Like nothing happened. Like the burn never existed. And along with the physical healing, the pain that was eating at him inside slowly subsides, leaving him feeling light as a pygmy seahorse after moments.

It is the ordinary for him, a natural phenomenon that he can do, but it still somehow rouses awe in him.

He is _this_ amazing.

He used to want to be friends with oysters (they were known to be the richest creatures and Jeonghan thought he deserves to belong there), bragging about how he can also make pearls. It was a declaration the oysters laughed at because Jeonghan could not prove it at all. Too bad they cannot watch him cry a pearl. He doubts oyster pearls can do what his pearl does, anyway.

Regardless of what, he decides he cannot afford to cry any more than that today, so he opts to just rest and watch the stars twinkle instead of going to the waters and risk getting seen by the same fishermen who burned him again. They might still be out there, adamant about catching him for whatever they will get for it.

His eyes scan the ocean for any sign of the fishermen who tried to capture him earlier, but they are nowhere to be found. They must have retreated, their weak minds throwing a mist over their wills. Humans cannot handle anything that strays far from normalcy, Jeonghan observes. They want him, a half human-half fish, to exist, but at any given inconvenience, their minds give up trying to make sense of anything that goes beyond their perception of what is normal. They like to think they are in control. They like to believe in a sound mind. Jeonghan laughs at their blind ignorance.

All thoughts are stripped off his mind when he sees a boat. Alarmed, Jeonghan stops combing his long, blonde hair—a habit he grows to realize whenever he is snapped out of his idle state. Bearing in mind that he is safe from the humans’ eyes in his veiled island, he watches as the humans aboard the boat move in haste. He wonders what could they be up to at night when no one else is around. Their actions are unlike fishermen setting sail in the dark—no. this is more rushed with a purpose in the middle of the sea, not anywhere beyond. There are no nets, not rods.

And then, as if it will help make it clear for Jeonghan to understand, he hears wailing. Soft and musical crying, piquing his interest and tugging at his heartstrings. As soon as he became aware of the honeyed sound, it ended when the humans on the boat threw something off their vessel.

_Another human?_

Without much thinking, Jeonghan checks on his burn wound. It is completely healed now. It is uncertain to him why, as soon as he deems himself scatheless, he slips into the waters as quietly as he could, making sure that his tail swiftly gets submerged under to avoid attracting the attention of the humans. As quickly as they came, they leave, promptly leaving behind the human they tossed. Jeonghan has a lot of questions.

As he swims down, he sees something in the form of a human. So, he is right. They just hurled their kind into the sea. Except this one has something covering his head and his hands are tied together in front of him. There is no way for Jeonghan to see his face.

With only a little aid of the moonlight hitting the dark waters, Jeonghan could see his form, helpless and writhing in vain. His muscles twitch, bubbles forming around him as he gasps for air that his lungs cannot take.

That is until the human stops struggling. Jeonghan watches the tense form slacken.

He stops fighting the water.

For whatever reason, before the human can sink to the depths below, Jeonghan rushes to its side. He lugs the form with him, scooping it up with his arms and holding its still-warm body to his chest as he swims back to his veiled land.

No matter how cruel humans were to him, even _he_ knows they cannot breathe underwater.

* * *

On his stone, his own bed of comfort, is a human.

That is a first.

Jeonghan's eyes rake across the human’s body. It is bare. It looks exactly like his—the shoulders, the lines of the neck, the form of the torso.

But what awakens his excitement is the pair of legs of flesh and bones, nothing like his tail.

Jeonghan marvels at how the legs are elongated, the skin tan and almost featureless in perfection. So this is what it looks like up close. Humans are funny creatures. They only have skin and more skin.

This human is different, however, Jeonghan notes as he runs a fingertip on the human’s abdomen down to his thighs. This one is covered in whip marks from end to end. He knows because he receives the same from fishermen. When Jeonghan gets the same marks, he dips himself in seawater and everything is all right. But this human, despite being in the water for so long, did not heal at all.

The marks might still hurt. Jeonghan frowns in perplexity. What do humans do to heal their wounds?

He undoes the sack over the human’s head only to see another piece of cloth tied around its eyes. That is definitely odd. Jeonghan pokes at its cheek, hoping it moves or twitch to let him know something… anything, but the human remains motionless.

He then takes off the blindfold only to be astounded by the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen.

Jeonghan has seen every wonder the ocean could offer, but nothing like this—no, never like this. The human’s eyes are open, pale lips parted.

The eyes are staring back at him.

These eyes are unparalleled by anything he has ever seen.

He bends down, cheek near the human’s lips. There is nothing. He watches the human’s chest for any movement. There is nothing.

Maybe if he waits for the human to speak? Move?

No matter what he does, the human does not show any response. He lets his eyes wander back to the human’s beautiful eyes. They really are magisterial, twinkling light bouncing off its beauty. Still… it seems like it is missing something.

Jeonghan breathes out a laugh, shaking his head at how stupid he may be to not figure this out the moment he laid eyes on those gems.

The eyes… they are missing the key to their beauty.

They are missing life.

The owner of the most beautiful eyes has already breathed its last.

_What a waste,_ he thinks, doubling over as his chest tightens.

Slowly, the pain rushes in his bloodstream—a pitiful scream escaping him.

Everything hurts. This is greater than when it was just a burn.

He knows that somewhere inside him, he mourns for this human who holds the most beautiful eyes.

He finds himself crying the second time tonight, a pearl falling from his eye and bouncing off the stone, rolling towards the human. The pain lulls as soon as he sees the little teardrop’s gleam.

There is a fire in him, a certain pull to do whatever he can to bring this human back. He may not be sure to know if it will do anything, but he trusts his spirit.

He picks up the pearl and puts it on his tongue.

The human’s cold, pale lips are soft when he slips the pearl in between it, cradling him in his arms. As he kisses the human, he gives a silent prayer to whoever created him to bring this beauty back to the world.

A siren’s kiss is to erase the human’s memory—another gift of nature to protect Jeonghan. He steals stories from humans as revenge for their brutality and abuse, and perhaps, he is the monster that humans think he is. A siren’s kiss is a curse. He is not at all better than humans. He might be worse.

In spite of this, he honors this human’s death by not ever knowing his story. Jeonghan has no idea of what happened to him, why he wears whip marks all over his body, why he is badly beaten and bruised. Jeonghan will never know his story, will never know what he erased. Out of respect for the human who holds the most beautiful eyes, Jeonghan will not be taking it from him. He is letting the memories go.

If this human is going to live again, Jeonghan will make sure it will never feel pain ever again.

Sometimes, the kiss of a siren is a gift.

* * *

He once got into an argument with Jeonghan over the best food, and Jisoo told him it is kelp that should be considered as the best-tasting food in all of the ocean while Jeonghan advocated for sea grapes. At the end of the day, they both settled to a truce and celebrated instead what they have in common: their passionate hatred for algae.

But secretly, behind Jeonghan’s back, along with his octopus friends, he talks about how kelp is really the best. They agree with him despite not eating said food probably because he listens attentively to their similar stories. They are nicer with him than with Jeonghan. At first, Jisoo got worried over the treatment Jeonghan gets from other creatures, but when he saw how Jeonghan causes trouble for them, he instantly deciphers the reason why.

(That, and belugas tell him they love him more than they love Jeonghan because he is polite and mannerly unlike the latter’s blunt tongue and brusque manners. And, just a little, Jisoo prides himself on having starfishes tell him he is the prettiest in the whole of the ocean. It is a nice compliment from the fairest of them all.)

“You know, earlier,” Jisoo mumbles through a mouthful of kelp. “Willie told me about this really sad story.”

Jeonghan hums in response, fingers raking through Jisoo’s chestnut-colored hair as he watches him gobble up his favorite food. They are lounging on the stone just like they always do at the end of the day when it is safe to come up to the surface without the humans seeing them. Jeonghan told him once that if it is dark enough for their tails to not reflect light, then it is safe enough to go to their veiled island.

“There are two humpbacks who fell in love the moment they saw each other. But they never met again even if they crossed the same current,” Jisoo continues to tell his story, wide-eyed and eager to see Jeonghan’s reactions. Jeonghan raises a brow in interest, and Jisoo grows more excited to tell him more. “Willie said it’s called star-crossed lovers.”

“Huh,” Jeonghan says, attentive to his words. “What could that mean?”

Jisoo swallows the kelp he had been chewing for quite some time now. “He said it’s when love is being stopped by the world. I think it’s really unfortunate to have a love like that.”

The fond look on Jeonghan’s face matches his gentle touch. The night breeze is cold, but Jisoo feels warm.

“As long as you have me, Jisoo, you will never have a love that miserable.”

Jisoo feels the safest in Jeonghan’s arms, just like this, with the moon beaming at them kindly.

“I know.”

His eyes wander all over Jeonghan’s face. He is so beautiful. Strong, sharp features complementing the softness of his eyes and the pink of his lips. Jisoo also loves brushing his long, blonde hair that ends to his waist. Jeonghan says brushing it is laborious, especially when he just got out of the saltwater, but Jisoo is patient with unraveling and untwisting the tangles in his hair. It soothes him to be able to do it, and Jeonghan looks most relaxed when Jisoo kneads his scalp tenderly with purpose.

But Jeonghan’s face is not where the grandeur stops. He possesses the most stunning tail to Jisoo. It shows him many colors especially when hit by light—a whole scale of all the colors Jisoo can imagine.

“Your tail is really beautiful,” Jisoo cannot help voicing out loud. “Everything about you is perfect.”

His gaze shifts to Jeonghan’s eyes, and to his surprise, Jeonghan is looking at him with an adoring smile.

Undeterred by Jisoo’s awe for his tail, Jeonghan replies, “Ah, if it’s about beautiful tails, the iridescence of yours is just sightly. Pink and pristine as a pearl, fitting of your beauty. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before.”

Heat creeps up Jisoo’s cheeks. Jeonghan likes this—jumping at him with shameless compliments.

“W-Well, your hair is glorious, so you’re still the most beautiful—”

“Trust me, Jisoo,” Jeonghan says as he noses Jisoo’s cheek. “Nothing, not even myself, can outrival your beauty.”

He buries his face in Jeonghan’s chest upon hearing the loving words. Jeonghan laughs at his bashfulness, and for a moment, it is all perfect.

But there is always something that bothers him… a presence that never ceases to make itself known ever since Jisoo could remember.

There is always a human by the shore at night. He is always there, always after the sun sets, sitting right where the sand meets the waters. He holds in his hand a bottle, and he is always looking up, talking to the moon.

When there is no moon, he is still the same. Looking up and talking. And when it pours, the waves crashing harshly against the rocks, the human watches a bit further from the waters. In a safe distance.

Nevertheless, there is not a night that he is not there.

“Han.”

“Yes?”

Jisoo points at the shore adjacent to the veiled land. “What is that human doing?”

Jeonghan follows his finger only to see said human by the shore. He scoffs, turning Jisoo’s face away from the displeasing sight.

“Jisoo, look at me and listen closely to what I’m about to tell you,” he says, holding him closer and maintaining his serious eyes on Jisoo’s curious ones. Jisoo nods obediently. Jeonghan knows best, after all. “Never let your curiosity gain control over you. Humans are cruel and vicious, and they only want to capture creatures like us. You saw how they took that salmon’s child, right?”

Mouth agape, Jisoo nods as he recalls the first time he witnessed a monstrous event. Humans used pointy tools they called spears to kill the creatures. If not for Jeonghan coming on time, Jisoo would be impaled by one. He saw how one spear hit Jeonghan’s back, creating a gash that made him bleed until they found refuge on their veiled island. Jeonghan had to leave him and risk being seen underwater, so he could heal. Jisoo remembers worrying so much in fear of never getting to see Jeonghan again.

“I saw them hurt you,” he says, tears threatening to fall. Jeonghan rubs his back to comfort him. “You bled.”

Jeonghan just sighs, hand leaving his hair to stroke his cheek. “I wish you didn’t have to see me like that. You understand, right? The reason why I’m warning you? I don’t want you to get hurt, Jisoo.”

“Oh, well,” he utters, eyes curving prettily as his lips form into a smile as he shakes the bad thoughts away. “I won’t go near them. I just feel sad because that human looks so forlorn.”

“Humans are numerous things. They’re kind of like us.” Jeonghan pinches Jisoo’s chin gently between his thumb and his index finger. “Ah, but you have to always think of your safety first. You’re my only family.”

“ _Family_ ,” Jisoo enunciates. “What is that?”

“It’s the two of us. Together.”

Oh. That makes sense.

“Promise me that you will not come to the surface without me? And if you’re hurt anywhere,” Jeonghan says as he runs a fingertip along the length of Jisoo’s nose. “You will come to me right away. I know how to heal you.”

“I promise,” Jisoo vows as nods earnestly, basking in the warm feeling of being taken care of.

Jeonghan is always like this to him—always gentle, always protective, always on his corner.

Jeonghan is always like this, but come what may, the love always feels new.

If this is the family Jeonghan speaks of, Jisoo figures he should protect him like this, too.

* * *

Three years.

Time flies so fast. It has been three years already.

The third anniversary of Jisoo’s death.

Seungcheol sits on the exact spot where they exchanged their vows. Usually, he brings whiskey with him, but he wants to be sober tonight when he talks to the skies. He brought flowers—freshly-picked hyacinths because Jisoo adored them and smelled like them all the time. Especially the tops of his head. Seungcheol would bury his nose in that warm spot on his hair, and when he would inhale, he would catch a faint smell of the blooming perennial.

There is a chance Jisoo would hear him better tonight. He wants to be clear when he tells him the contents of his heart, and he wants it to show through the flowers. Just a little prayer, hoping it will reach his dearest Jisoo.

“Jisoo, I’m always waiting for you,” he says, staring blankly at the twinkling skies. Jisoo’s eyes glimmered just like them.

Seungcheol does this every night. In the morning, he fulfills his duties as king, wife nowhere to be found because he stood his ground. And when his father died the month after Jisoo’s death, Seungcheol rewrote history for his lost love.

Thariun’s tradition of requiring love to fit nobility is now gone. If not for himself, Seungcheol is doing this for the ones after him.

Jisoo would want that. He would love to see freedom.

“You waited for me, didn’t you? You called out my name the whole time.”

Not only that, but men who administered Jisoo’s execution were captured and imprisoned per his orders.

Merciful in the eyes of the people. The new king is merciful and benevolent. But, in his heart, he wanted nothing else but to slay them, slice their heads off after whipping them until only their eyes are left unscathed. And he wanted to do that, so bad that he almost did. To him, doing that would mean giving Jisoo’s death proper justice.

_But what would more blood spilled do?_ A nagging voice in his head asks. _Would that bring back Jisoo?_

Nothing. It will not bring his husband back. It will not undo the suffering Jisoo went through. Instead, Seungcheol had the men tell him in detail what they did to Jisoo, and he swears he could just go and do the same to them, whip them to death and drown them in the sea, but Jisoo will not want that.

Jisoo will ask him to forgive them because Jisoo is perfect and Jisoo is kind and Jisoo knows not to do harm to any living creature.

Seungcheol cannot find forgiveness in himself just yet. And so, he settles for justice.

And, maybe, when he made the men tell him about Jisoo’s demise in detail, it was punishment more for himself than for anyone else.

They told him it was the hostler who spread the rumors, and so, he went to Hansol to apologize. The boy now works for the ministry for peace and order. Not a step towards his dream of becoming a general, but it was all Hansol could afford to have after being fired as a royal guard. When Seungcheol got to him, he was surprised when the younger enveloped him in a warm embrace. The boy looked more mature, wiser than before. He expected rejection, but Hansol only smiled kindly, offering a shoulder to cry on since he is aware of Seungcheol mourning for every second of his life. He is the only family Seungcheol has after all.

In the morning, he is Thariun’s merciful, benevolent king. The king who moved the stars in the sky and changed tradition as a tribute to his deceased husband.

“You bore all the pain. I’m waiting for you now. Wherever you are, please let it be paradise.”

At night, he visits the place where he married the love of his life. The place where he lost the love of his life.

Seungcheol laughs at the irony. The seas are both gruesome and lovely.

Talking to the skies seems like an endless feat for someone like him. He can never run out of things to say to Jisoo.

He lets his tears flow.

_Three years, Jisoo. Three years without you._

It only takes a split second, a breath of air, a gust of wind.

Like the glint of a precious stone in a dark room, something catches his eye.

A head… behind a rock… in the water.

Seungcheol acts before he could think. There could be someone here, someone who has found his shore. He comes closer, uncaring even if the waters are to his knees, soaking his trousers. 

The person turns to look straight at him and it feels like the worlds stopped. Seungcheol’s ears feel clogged, his breathing uneven as his mind tries to make sense of what he is seeing.

Those eyes.

He can never mistake those eyes for anything else.

Numbness engulfs Seungcheol as his heart attempts to leap out of his chest. He shakes his head in hopes of waking himself up from a trance, but when he gazes again, it is the same pair of eyes looking back at him.

“ _Jisoo_ ,” he whispers.

Recognition crosses Jisoo’s eyes. He must have heard that silent mention of his name as his eyes widened in shock.

From where Seungcheol could see, dipped in the waters, Jisoo has no clothes on, his whole body immersed aside from his chest and head. He must be cold, but he shows no signs of it. Sans the trembling, his lips are a bright shade of the usual pink… how Seungcheol misses those lips.

But aside from those things, he cannot see any more. The waters are dark at night, and the moonlight serves only so much.

There and then, he rushes to him.

“Jisoo!” He calls out louder, tears escaping his eyes some more, but he does not notice, does not care for his blurring vision.

Jisoo is here.

Jisoo is alive.

It feels surreal. Jisoo is in front of him. After three years of longing, mourning for him.

But Jisoo does not respond, confusion swimming in his eyes as if he does not understand anything.

As if he does not recognize him.

And when Seungcheol is near, an arm away from his beloved Jisoo, his heavy, soaked clothes weighing his movements down, Jisoo’s face turns fearful.

In a fraction of a second, Jisoo is diving into the waters. Seungcheol moves quickly to grab him, to at the very least feel him, but Jisoo is swift with his movements.

Before Seungcheol could process the pain, the confusion, the bewilderment of having to see his long lost husband…

He sees it.

And there it was. The tail.

It is a brilliant, metallic pink, with pearly scales that goes so well with the moon’s glow. Seungcheol stares in shock as the tail connected to his husband gracefully disappears into the waters.

It feels like a dream.

He wishes he brought whiskey with him to justify what he just saw.

Maybe it was not Jisoo. Maybe it was someone else.

_Maybe it is a mermaid_ , a rational part of his head tells him. _A figment of your imagination since you’re going insane after losing your husband._

But that does not make sense. He is sober. He knows what he saw.

He decides it should not matter whether or not Jisoo really has a tail.

Jisoo is alive.

For the rest of the night, he swims as much as he could, calling out Jisoo’s name. He swims and swims until the sun comes up and his bones could no longer work. He only finds that is no one there other than him.

All efforts lost in vain and body exhausted, he figures he should come home first, sleep, clean up, and try again—the first thing he will be doing after he regains his strength.

_Jisoo, wherever you are, let it be paradise._

* * *

Jisoo lied to Jeonghan.

This is the first time he ever did such a thing.

He told him he was just going to spend time with the turtles and play at the nearest current. Jeonghan just wished him well and told him to meet at the veiled land after sunset to do nothing in particular, but also to do everything that they usually do—talk and laugh and share food as Jeonghan holds Jisoo in his arms. And then they will fall asleep until the sunlight wakes them up. Jisoo cannot wait for the sun to set. That is his favorite time of the day.

Jisoo lied to Jeonghan. He is nowhere with the turtles or at the current.

He is at the opposite, at the surface where he could be easily spotted by humans.

He is going to see the human from last night.

It is not disobedience, not even disrespect for Jeonghan who only wishes for his safety. Jisoo will be extra cautious, and he promised himself he would flee the moment he senses danger.

He is just… curious.

Why does the human know my name?

Jeonghan said humans are cruel, so he ought to stay at a safe distance just to observe. He intends to stay and wait behind the same rock just to see if the man will come back.

But when he gets there, he sees him. The man is there, alone, even before Jisoo could make it. Now, he is properly dressed unlike his rugged appearance last night. He has white, linen clothing, and his facial hair is nowhere to be seen. His appearance looks cleaner, brighter.

Despite that, he looks disturbed with his foot tapping nervously on the sand. Jisoo suddenly finds himself wondering what it is like to have legs.

Clearly, the man is waiting for him, so he lets himself be seen. He slips into view, and almost immediately, the man instinctively moves forward.

Jisoo moves back, mental alarms blaring. And the man must have realized how his sudden actions are scaring him because he steps back as soon as he becomes aware.

But Jisoo has seen enough. It does not matter why this man knows him. Jeonghan was right. He should not be trusting humans.

“Please! Please don’t go,” the man exclaims as Jisoo tries to turn around to go back. A bead of water slides down from Jisoo’s forehead to the tip of his nose. “I won’t come near. I won't touch you. I just want to talk.”

And so, he stops, looking back at the pleading man who is now on his knees.

“Please, Jisoo.”

Jisoo stares at him, wondering how he knows his name. He says it so easily, so softly, too. Somehow, the comfort that he finds in hearing his name from this man baffles him. It should be wrong to feel this way.

“Jisoo…” the man implores. “I miss you.”

Jisoo tilts his head in confusion. Longingness is something he feels when Jeonghan is out to help hermit crabs find their shells and it is taking him too long for Jisoo’s liking. How could this man miss him when they have never seen each other before?

“How do you know my name?” Jisoo asks, noting how the man freezes as soon as he speaks.

“It really _is_ you. My eyes are not fooling me.”

Jisoo asks again, a little annoyed that the man is deliberately ignoring his question. Jeonghan answers him right away whenever he asks. This man is just rude. “How do you know my name?”

He watches the man’s face turn from excited to crestfallen. Maybe it was his tone? Maybe he was too harsh with his question. Now, Jisoo feels bad.

“You really don’t remember me? Jisoo, I’m your husband.”

_Husband?_

Whatever that may be, Jisoo thinks it is a funny word. Sounds like food. Not as tasty as kelp but maybe a tad better than algae. Everything is better than algae.

Jisoo only giggles, acknowledgment absent from his expressive eyes.

“You’re funny, _human_.”

This exchange does not interest him anymore. He should not have come. He turns around, again, preparing to swim back home. He suddenly misses the coolness from the slab of stone.

The man scrambles to go near, as near as he could, but Jisoo is already moving away.

“Are you going? Will you be coming back?” The man asks, desperation lacing his voice. Jisoo only turns back to look at him once more, and then he dives back to the water. Just as he thought, the human cannot hold his attention any longer.

The waters are turning into a dark shade of red and a little of orange as the sun goes to bed.

Jeonghan must be waiting for him. Jisoo cannot wait to comb his hair for him and to tell him about a new word he heard from a human.

* * *

Seungcheol watches as the last splash of water hits the surface, engulfing the shimmery coral of Jisoo’s tail.

He really is a merman.

There is an ache deep in him. He remembers the look on Jisoo’s face, blank and slowly and steadily losing fascination.

_How do you know my name?_

_You’re funny, human._

His eyes, too. The vacant, stony eyes that show both incomprehension and emptiness.

So, the truth must be faced, Seungcheol tells himself. Jisoo does not know him. Not anymore. Somehow, along with gaining a tail, he lost all memories of Seungcheol and their love and quite possibly his life on land.

The apathy from Jisoo is something he never thought was possible. It just goes to show that while Jisoo is very much alive and well, his husband is gone.

Seungcheol could hear his heart break into pieces. Over and over again.

That merman who has the name and face of his husband is just a shell of what he used to be. Seungcheol chuckles emptily as he realizes, at that moment as he is slumped on the wet sand, that his Jisoo is gone.

The merman has the same eyes, the same innocent air, the curious gaze, the lilt in his voice, the same name—but he does not know anything about the Jisoo that Seungcheol knows.

Even worse, he plainly does not care for him.

_Jisoo is gone_ , the wind whispers to him as if he has not been telling himself the same damn thing for three years. _Your husband is gone._

Once more, Seungcheol spares the sea a glance, standing up from his pitiful stance. He sees the calm waves come to him. He takes his feet off the water, watching the sun fully hide behind the horizon.

And then, he lets all his tears, one after another, escape and trickle down his face, not a single sound coming out.

With heavy steps, he retreats back to the palace.

He will try again tomorrow. He must.

He already lost Jisoo once.

He might have lost him for a second time, but he has to try. For as long as he knows that Jisoo is alive, he has to try.

Maybe he can have him back.

Maybe if he waits enough.

***

Nobody knows how it ends or if it even ever comes to any sort of a close.

Every night, the king waits by the shore as he watches the sun leave the sky.

Every night, the king waits by the shore. He waits. And he waits.

And waits for whatever is there for him somewhere beyond the realm of reason.

But, for all that, one thing is for sure.

Jisoo, wherever he may be, is in paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright!!! now that that's over, sleepy time for meeeee and hehehehehehehe pls drop a comment and a kudos <3 i really love hearing from you : ) if ur interested, im doing svt fanfic com missions :))))

**Author's Note:**

> hi! if u made it this far that means i love u aha ; ) u didn't expect that didn't u
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> [twitter](https://twitter.com/shuanime)
> 
> also im trying to save up and quarantine isn't making that too easy for me soooo my [svt fanfic com missions](https://ao3-shuanime.carrd.co) are open if you’re interested! comeesh me to write u a fic <3 hehe
> 
> tip jar:  
> you can also buy me a cup of [[coffee](https://ao3-shuanime.carrd.co/#ko-fi)] as support (only if it’s coming from the goodness of your heart hehe please don’t feel pressured!) 
> 
> pls dont forget to leaves a kudos with love please AND your feedback and feelings in the comments! i wanna know what you think :)
> 
> stay safe everyooooone!


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